


You'll Catch Me

by DreamingAmethystDragons



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Getting Together, Humor, M/M, all the sappy stuff, alternatively titled: sin puts his foot in his mouth but things work out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingAmethystDragons/pseuds/DreamingAmethystDragons
Summary: After a near-death experience, Sinbad has a revelation.  Then he - unsubtly, of course - turns into a lovestruck fool.





	You'll Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainberrywarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rainberrywarrior).



The way that Sinbad has his revelation is less a meaningful product of thought and more an intersection of devastating happenstance and blindingly obvious hindsight, and it all happens within the span of fifteen minutes.

He throws open the doors and leaves his pride at the threshold, nearly knocking a poor healer into the wall as he narrows in at the end of the corridor.  Sin has been there on that infirmary bed, positioned where the morning sun washes in through the windows.  It’s the life of a warrior and a king - he’s had limbs nearly severed, and he’s been there gasping when the air was too thin for his lungs.  The times he’s been laid up are too many to count, by now, but when he sees Ja’far laying on that bed everything goes grey.

Yamuraiha is standing at the foot of the bed, and when her eyes meet his she tries for a smile that’s more of a wince.  There’s an attendant by his shoulder, prattling on, but Sinbad’s only getting snippets as his knuckles shine white through his skin where he clenches his hands.  Diplomatic… unknown… flesh wound… of danger… Ja’far.

He brushes them aside, only superficially noticing Yamu waving them away as he moves around the bed to look down at its occupant.  Ja’far is hardly a larger-than-life figure to begin with, but Sinbad’s so used to his presence that it’s just… _violating_ to see him lying on sheets as pale as his hair, hands neatly folded across his stomach and lips pressed into a neutral slash under the smattering of dusky freckles on his cheekbones.

_What, lost your brain?_ Had asked Sharrkan that morning when Sinbad had come out of his chambers, dreary and befuddled.  He’d only been able to stare when a messenger had trotted sharply up and turned his heart down through his throat with a few quiet words.  

Sin stares.  The bandages hiding the curve of a shoulder visible above the bedcloth seems suddenly ugly and constricting, and he has to grip the hilt at his side to control the fine tremble of his hands.  Regaining the realizations of what he _didn’t know_ , he spins to Yamuraiha despite the way Ja’far’s features still hover in his mind’s eye.  “He’s - Is he...?”

The twist at the corners of Yamu’s mouth tell Sin that’s probably what she had been saying to him earlier, but her eyes are steady and (thankfully) clear of pity.  “He’ll be fine.  It was a nasty hit that his assailant got in on him, but at worst he’ll just be out for a bit longer.”

He’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake.  “And the attacker?”

“Gone.”

Sin makes a wordless sound of anger.  May they have hellhounds eat their spleens for touching his -

And the world stops spinning for a second.

“Sinbad?”

… His Ja’far?

“Sinbad, are you okay?  Your face just went white.”

… His dearest friend, one of his oldest companions.  Ja’far, who secretly liked the tiny lizards that could be seen clinging to the outsides of the palace walls in the late dusk before the moon rises, who rose earlier than most anyone else he knew and who still kept him on track in spite of the walls of paperwork that sometimes rose higher than his head.  Ja’far, with scars on his legs and arms and belly, who had a secret sweet tooth and would chide him when no one else was willing to kick his ass out of his ears and into gear.  Ja’far, who…

Had been with him for so long, and was still there.

Ja’far, without whom Sinbad was thrown off balance.

“... Sinbad.”

And moments before the business end of a staff cracked into the back of his calf, Sinbad realized just how gone he was.

\---

Sinbad doesn’t really accept how deep he is until Ja’far’s out of the infirmary and at least let back to his work on watch, and he only’s able to do so when he realizes that he’s turned into a complete and utter moron.  

On the surface, little has changed.  He still lounges in bed later than he should, and Ja’far still sweeps past his desk to deposit paperwork with barbs and praise a roulette on the tip of his tongue.  The earth still turns.  The waves still wash onto the beach.  The palace hasn’t cracked in two, and if it hasn’t by now it likely still won’t for what he hopes is a long while to go.

For all that, though, Sinbad still can’t get the sight of Ja’far’s pale face framed by the too-still interior of the sickbed, and the problem isn’t just that he realizes how affectionate he _wants_ to be.  King of Sindria and the Seven Seas he may be, but he’s been in lust and been in adoration, but _love_ is… a new one.

As a result, he’s left on a constant trend of backpedalling and passive-aggressively leaving treats on Ja’far’s desk when he’s not around (and a few time when he is).

It starts small.  A whetstone for his daggers, a cup of tea late at night, some fresh fruit straight from the docks from the latest shipment and passed off as asking for an opinion on quality.  Whenever he’s tried to woo someone before, usually simple words were enough (if one knowing smirk across the room wasn’t), so he’s out of his league, but he’d like to think that he’s at least smart enough to know that if he leaves flowers and jewelry Ja’far is either going to be uncaring and throw them away, or catch on very quickly.  This isn’t a conversation he wants to have yet - and that’s a lie, maybe he does, (he really _does_ ) but that’s not the point.  Self-preservation’s a difficult thing to kick when Ja’far swoops down on him one day as he’s lounging in a doorway to the courtyard, eyes all steely and gracefully fluid in a way Sinbad’s not yet been able to mimic.  “Sinbad.”

“Ja’far.” He tries to modulate his tone - hopefully somewhere between amused and bored and not at all nervously betrayed by the treacherous heart that’s currently thumping away somewhere in the pit of his stomach.   His general draws closer, swiping errant strands of hair away from his eyes in a casual motion, and gods, but Sinbad can see every dusky freckle when he stops at the other side of the frame, eyes sunlight-silvered in the shafts of light.  

This has to be years of repressed attraction catching up with him.

“Have you seen anyone leaving things on my desk?”

People like to say Sinbad is suave, and he’s praying for at least an ounce of that quality right now so his foot doesn’t lodge in his mouth.  “What do you mean?”

Ja’far’s eyebrows are drawn down in a sharp slant, but he doesn’t look angry or annoyed… thoughtful, perhaps, if Sin wanted to label it.  “Someone - and I’m going to assume it’s one person, at least - has been leaving a menagerie of random items in my belongings.  At first I thought they were misplaced, but even with quality inspection behind there’s no note for why they’re there… I wanted to know if you’d seen who’s been around my desk when I’m not there.”

Sinbad closes his eyes for a moment in a parody of thinking, silently thanking whatever deity he’d pleased inadvertently lately.  He’d been hoping Ja’far would at least recognize them as gifts, but at least this isn’t outright rejection, and Ja’far seems as oblivious as anyone to the tango that’s currently taking place in his stomach.  

Ja’far seems to have taken Sinbad’s hesitation for consideration, for when he opens his eyes again his advisor is gazing out over the courtyard, face bathed in light.  The sight brings Sinbad’s pulse to stutter-step in his throat, and he rakes his eyes away from the hollow of Ja’far’s throat and looks outside just to see one of the trainees take a tumble in the dirt.  The guy gets up right away, though, and Sin takes heart from that.  “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone out of the usual… Want me to keep an eye out?”  Bonus, there - he can spend more time around Ja’far’s quarters if he’s…. watching.

To his surprise, the other takes a second to answer, eyes tracking something overhead.  “Ah… I suppose.”  He clears his throat then, all business, before he turns and nods - a quick, birdlike motion.  “Thank you.  Please excuse me, I’ve got a meeting with Drakon that I should get going to, but I’ll see you this afternoon.”

And, inexplicably, Ja’far smiles before he turns to leave - a slash of amusement across his thin features, both sarcastic and immeasurably warm, and Sinbad’s too old to have his heart a-skitter like this.

\---

Now that Ja’far’s on the lookout, Sinbad has to be must more cautious.  In his head, the schemes get more elaborate, but he really does try to keep them simple - a sweet here and there, an extra effort to finish his paperwork early, a memo to something he _knows_ Ja’far’s razor-sharp wit will appreciate.  (He’ll admit to having roped in some others to avoid detection, but if he’s got several favors owed to Sharrkan and one overly-curious speech from Hinohoho likely stewing in the works, well.  He doesn’t know anything about _that_.)

He gets cornered, though, a few weeks later.

Sinbad’s out on a balcony on one of the upper levels of the palace, by himself under the stars.  He brought a jug of wine out, too, as per his old tradition that he likes to think no one knows about, but it remains untouched so far.  The breeze is fondly curling his hair around his shoulder and his city is sprawled out below, and everything is warm and safe and oh gods there are footsteps behind him.

Sin whirls around, and there he is, arms bare with the upper part of his robes hanging slack over his obi and his uncovered hair shining under the moonlight, looking over at Sinbad with a quirk to his lips as he leans across the doorway.  “Have room for another out here?”

When he asks like _that_ , looking like… _that_ … Sinbad would give him anything he requested.

Ja’far strides out onto the balcony, crossing in a few steps to rest his arms on the railing just like Sinbad had been doing.  Sin joins him again, aware of how warm his palms feel, but the beauty of the city below is unchanged and he looks out for a minute before his eyes flit over to his general again.  

Ja’far looks… at peace, head tipped back as the wind ruffles the hair around his face.  Wrists crossed, body at ease - but Sinbad’s sure he could spring into fluid motion in a second, and it is the thought of Ja’far moving bare-shouldered with that simple grace that makes him finally avert his eyes, cheeks warm.  Luckily, Ja’far seems unaware of Sin’s mental turmoil, but he only adds to it in the next moment as he says, “I had something to ask of you.”

“Eh?  What’s that?”  Sinbad tries to cast his mind back if anything had seemed wrong or unsure in their interactions lately, but he can’t recall…

“Well.  Not so directly, but… Are you hiding something?”

… Oh no.

“What?”

Ja’far tips his head to look at him, and Sinbad has to fight a shiver when dark eyes fix on his.  He’s no slouch, but he’s well aware that Ja’far could kick his ass if he wanted.  “You’ve been staring at me a lot lately.  And you’ve been bringing me things more often - I think it’s _you_ who’s been leaving stuff around.”

Busted.

“But,” Ja’far continues, and his eyes haven’t left Sin’s face, “I’m not sure why.  I asked around, and I’ve heard some interesting things…”

Those favors that Sharrkan owes him are _definitely_ null and void now.

“But I wanted to hear why, from you, before I make any conclusions.”

A way out, Sin thinks. He could make something up.  Currying favors, pranks, pass it off as simple appreciation for what Ja’far does.  He could.  He’s a talented enough storyteller, and Ja’far probably wouldn’t pry if he came up with something quick enough.

But....

For once, he wants to be brave.

“... Yeah.  About that.”

He turns to face Ja’far fully.  There’s a strange look on the other’s face… curiosity, patience, or a strange kind of anticipation?  He tries not to dwell on it.  “There _has_ been something that… I’ve wanted to tell you.”

Sin pauses, but Ja’far makes no more comments, simply watching him instead.  He’s beautiful, and Sinbad feels his throat tighten for a second as he remembers the hospital bed.  He rolls his shoulders and moves forward, moving his hand to cup around the base of Ja’far elbow, and to his surprise Ja’far allows him to, peering up into his face steadily.  

There’s a lot on the tip of his tongue.  Familiarity and the long years of companionship behind them, back before king and vassal, before war and pain.  All those moments weigh in of unspoken comfort, of bonds, of long days at sea and under the sun, and there’s so much to say, and yet what comes out when he opens his mouth is, “I think I like you.”

Ja’far just raises an eyebrow.  Sin is… probably blushing.

“I mean, like… maybe a little more than a friend.”

“Oh?”  It’s not quite a question, and there’s something a little like satisfaction in those grey eyes.  “You mean, those things on my desk were… courtship kinds of things?”

Yes.  “I mean… They can just be friendship kind of things,” and then he’s silenced by a finger placed against his lips.  Ja’far smiles, wicked and warm.

“Maybe I’m not opposed to the first.”

Sin stops breathing for a second.  “Really?”

“Ask me what you _meant_ to ask.”  And somehow they’re even closer, now - Ja’far’s hand on his arm, Sin’s hand on his waist, fingertips pressed to the top of the obi.

“Will you… Am I allowed to court you?”

In that smile, Sinbad reads _I knew all along_ and _it’s about damn time_ , but all he breathes is “ _Finally_ ” before he stands on tiptoe to press his lips to Sinbad’s.

And Sinbad is a lucky, lucky man.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was commissioned by RainberryWarrior over on tumblr - cheers, dear!  
> Unsurprisingly, it's also posted over on my tumblr page as well.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
